The gods of fashion

The gods of fashion speak every season.
They tell us what to wear and sometimes what not.
They help us craft artificial self-esteem:
we feel cool with ourselves
because we’re wearing that that they’ve prescribed for the day.
Declaring what to trend,
they ask us to sync with what’s trending
— feeding their fame and fortune.
But we have taken the red pill.

I still like my two-button, and not overly fitted, suits.
That one-button suits, with fitted fitting, are in now, will soon pass.
And for what? I would not try to tell.
We leave that for the gods of fashion.

Because their fashions are fickle, are the gods not fickle.
Trusted to be arbiters of style,
we give them power:
if we have to bother about how to wear ourselves
as they describe for winter, fall, spring, or summer.

You can’t beat the decent and the sensible, can you.
Principles the gods of fashion cannot overrule, by principle.
Some follow these, others try to redefine the fine.
Many claim a variable morality;
variable by the seasons, ‘artists’ whims, and volitional caprices.

Beauty makes sense.
And crazy isn’t beautiful.
It can’t be, by design.

Will her tummy not go back in?

He being the only one to behold and ‘appreciate’ the whole natural glory of her body, there might have been a feeling of resignation in his words, “I am stuck with the daily sight of this awesome woman whether or not she retains her shape after childbirth.”

Yet this same man, if not his wife, would likely be wanting another baby in about three years. And both their parents might ask questions if their second grandchild from the couple appears to be coming late. Three years is late already. 

The times are changing though.

But what does a man do if his wife ceases to be eye candy for him in the sense of eye candy, lust apart.

Now he doesn’t mind his wife getting fatter or fleshier (he is properly African, afterall), it’s just the protruding tummy. A little is okay, but not ‘that’ much. Yes, he knows he’s going nowhere, and that, by principle; hence, the sign of resignation in his jocular lament. 

Is there more for him to do than to encourage her nicely and out of love…. He has settled with the plot he chose to build his home in, like a real, mature, man on that front. Even if he married her for her body, he is married to her, and that counts for everything. Commitment is love.

I hope it is not that you are comparing your wife with other women. There’s no basis for comparison really: she’s the wife, so the others are not. Besides, their bodies and  histories are different. Ah, he just wants his hottie back (as if she had been away).

But what does a woman do, think, say. Particularly if ‘the one’ is almost making a fuss? Maybe he’s not.

He still likes you to look pretty that way in his eyes. Throwing tantrums like a spoilt child. He is crying over spilled milk, you don’t have to join him. Things would go from good to bad if you felt sorry and sad for what came beside that bundle of joy, your baby. And what if the fattening came by itself? Haha, the blessing of marriage. It is something to laugh about.

You have a little belly sir. I know. It’s nice, isn’t it. My wife loves to rub it. Hmm, why don’t you rub hers? …It doesn’t work both ways man. That’s like stand the earth on its head; unimaginable.

He wants you; only you. Not some other woman, however flat-bellied, tight and shapely, well-sized where it matters, fresh looking, and totally tantalising in a bikini she might look. Em, okay, I’d like think that that is true. It’s comforting at the very least.

But he looked … Haha, you would catch some men giving mannequins a second look. Not funny though, if it happens more than once. He might be trekking towards losing the plot, so a smack and a reminder might be helpful. Whack! What? “I’m helping you stay focused on what matters: me.” He has a sense of serious humour.

So some women delay marriage and childbirth because of ‘fashion.’ …. Some opt out entirely. A friend says she wants only one, for whatever reason. Many others say ‘what the heck’ and trudge on, walking barefeet and free. 

Her home is now a gym, because biology often needs help. Regardless, he’s a pillar that will always be there. Kind of like God in a way. I love you; I know it everyday.

David Saw a Bathing Beauty

Wikimedia Commons File:Salviati_David_Bathseba.JPG

Bathsheba Goes to King David

In the spring, when kings went out to war, David sent his men to destroy his foes while he stayed at home to lounge. One evening he got up from his couch and walked around on the roof of his house. From there, he came to see a woman bathing in a pool; she was very beautiful.

Is naked beautiful? He asked himself. Was she beautiful to him because a beautiful soul had shown through the sight of her flesh. “Don’t deceive yourself.” Was it that she was truly very beautiful? Or could it really be that the nakedness he saw was at the root of the attraction fuelling perception.

Perhaps his idleness had created an ill that made some things salient and desirable to deal with; attractive to touch even. Maybe his hormones were just speaking. And he had the power to answer their call for the woman for whom they stirred, so he moved the more to their music.

(The story ends this way: he impregnated her, tried to get her husband to sleep with her in order to make him seem to have paternity, but failed. He then killed her husband by the sword of his foes. Later, the child of his adultery died soon after birth. A tragedy.)

Did David Confuse beauty with physical appeal. Maybe not, he was a poet and must surely could tell between the two. Regardless, he meant what he felt (said) to himself: “she is very beautiful; I want her.”

Would he have wanted her had he seen her in the humble clothing of his day? Maybe. He was a poet, an aesthete, and he could see more than his eyes would see: he had x-ray vision without the radiation.

(Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons, File:Salviati_David_Bathseba.jpg)


Volcano in rapture
She wells deep from within
Lava passion

I suppose that describes one or two people you(I) know.
Now thinking of Mel Gibson’s ‘The Passion of Christ.’ Only ever saw the movie preview.
Yeeah, the music came to mind: ‘Pasión,’ by Rodrigo Leão. Fantastic flow. Goes very well with tango (the dance). Check YouTube.
Talking of tango, … words are never sufficient.
Speaking of passion, words aren’t necessary.
I see me.
Another song comes to mind now: ‘I See Him,’ by Frank Edwards. YouTube it 🙂 Was somewhere where the song was put on repeat for quite a while. Obviously, something stayed with me.

Beauty is Bestowed on those we Commit Ourselves

Beauty is bestowed on them to whom we commit ourselves; for commitment confers honour, grants privileges, inspires desire, and does sincere deeds. Those we chose to commit to, and so give our graces, are beautified the more in our eyes, and theirs.

Joy to the world and a Merry Christmas to you.

World Beauty Demographics

Referring to purely facial beauty.

Perhaps looking for trouble, but here we go.

The women of Romance, on average, appear better looking than their Germanic or Scandinavian counterparts and the ‘native’ women of the British Isles.

Women of South America with immigrant ancestry would likely top those more local. And we might agree that mixed colour children would, on average, look better than the peoples of either parent.

A bit hard to speak of the women of nations like Canada, USA, and Australia, because of the plurality of their immigrants, being essentially immigrant nations. But between the three, the relative homogeneity of Australia as compared to the others should give them third place here.

For the whites of the Far east, let’s place the Koreans before the Chinese, and the Chinese before the japanese.

Between the Ukrainians and the Russians, I’d give it to the Ukrainians. And perhaps put the Armenians above them.

Where do we place the Arabs of the Middle East? Let’s make the Persians first. No! Go to Lebanon? Totally undecided here; no one stands out among them. They seem to be just one. Compared to other groups, as above, where do we place them? Thinking …. The American potpourri tops them?

Consider Pakistani versus Indian beauties; this is nuclear, but I think the Pakistanis have it—mostly.

And, African women are the best looking of all. (Well, maybe not.) More correctly though, it is very likely that, the most beautiful women in the world are Nigerian or have Nigerian ancestry. Why? Seeing is believing: visit Nigeria and see for yourself. Or find them in other countries and compare objectively if you can.

Vanity, I know. … And, really, we have no choice but to be comfortable in our own skin—and skin colour.

A lot of the slaves that went to the Caribbean and the northern parts of South America came from West Africa, Nigeria in particular. Many, from ports in Lagos and Cross river, (Badagry and Bonny).

Click Saros to read about returned slaves. This partly explains why a number of Nigerians, particularly from the southern coastal areas, bear western last names.

Incomplete thoughts …. Highly fluid.

Initial Post:
It is very likely that, statistically, the most beautiful women in the world would be Nigerian or of Nigerian ancestry. Why? Seeing is believing in this case; visit Nigeria and see for yourself. Or find them in other countries and compare objectively if you can.